Close
by Lotta Devon
Summary: He grabbed hold of the front of my shirt, yanking me forwards roughly. "Promise me," he snarled.


**AN: I started this a few months back, only to pick it back up again this week. A kinda short one shot, really. Inspired by a line from the song 'The End' by The Remus Lupins. Yeah, it's a song about Harry Potter, I'm a dork, this is a fanfiction site, we're all dorks. (The line is 'stay alive until morning, I swear I'll find you.')**

**I do not own Death Note or make any money from it. **

He sat across from me. An uneaten chocolate bar lay on the table in front of him. He said nothing. Did nothing. I could see that his jaw was clenched, his shoulders stiff with tension. His eyes were burning holes into the adjacent wall.

Silence.

Unable to concentrate, and not really wanting to, I turned off my PSP and shut my laptop. The room was cast into darkness. I could just make out his silhouette against the lights of the city in the window behind him.

"We could die tomorrow," he said. His voice was hollow.

I looked past him. Street lights and road signs and cars driving past and music playing and people walking, talking, living.

"We won't," I replied.

He just looked at me blankly.

There was the sound of sirens from outside. It came and went, fading into silence. It struck me as something very poignant. We arrive, blazing with noise and lights and life, screaming our existence out to the world. And then we go, leaving nothing behind but the memory, an echo. Everything comes and everything must leave.

"We won't," I repeated.

He moved, sliding off the sofa and kneeling on the floor in front of me. My eyes, now adjusted to the darkness, could see the sharp curve of his cheekbones and his wide eyes looking up at me. He placed his hands on my knees. They were warm.

"Mells..." I murmured, a faint protest against something – I knew not what.

"I will find you," he said, his gaze fierce, "Stay alive until morning, I _swear_ I'll find you."

I tried to say something but no noise escaped my mouth.

"I will," his voce grew even more determined, "I will find you."

"Mello, stop," I said, shaking my head and pushing his hands away, "You know that it's-"

"Shut up!" he yelled, "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

His fists clenched around his hair, pulling at it. His eyes were wild. I simply sat there and looked at him. Of all the words in the world I wanted to say to him, I could not bring a single one of them to my lips.

He grabbed hold of the front of my shirt, yanking me forwards roughly.

"Promise me," he snarled, "Promise me you'll stay alive."

"Don't..." I whispered, catching hold of his wrists.

"Promise!"

The word caught in his throat and he choked it out.

"I promise."

I think we both already knew.

He kissed me then. Usually our kisses were fast and messy, full of lust and desperation. This one was slow. Lingering. His lips pressed against mine, sometimes gentle, sometimes hard. I responded with equal pace. His arms snaked round the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, pulling himself closer until thighs were against thighs and his knees knocked against my hips. I locked my arms around his waist. He pressed his forehead to mine.

Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Peace; what little we could get of it. It was what we had, right then and there in that moment, clinging to each other and clinging to life.

"I love you," he whispered.

My fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt. Those were words that were rarely said. We kissed and we fucked and we held each other until god forsaken hours of the morning. But rarely love.

"I love you too." My throat tightened and my eyes burned, but I would not cry. There was no need. We _would_ survive. And I _would not cry_.

"Mattie."

His voice was oh so quiet. He was at breaking point. I knew it. He knew it. I was there too. We were breaking together.

"It's Mail."

It was like releasing something. All my life I'd been taught to build up walls, to protect myself, to lock myself in. And now I was knocking them all down. It didn't matter anymore.

"My name. Mail Jeevas."

He gasped. I opened my eyes to find his staring back. His whole body shifted closer. It was uncomfortable, being pushed together like we were. Still I wanted him closer.

"Mihael Keehl."

I kissed him softly. A mere brush of the lips.

_I think I was born for you_, I wanted to say, _and I will die for you. _I didn't.

"Then I love you, Mihael Keehl," I said instead.

We kissed again. His lips were wet and salty. He was crying. I was crying too by then. My whole body was trembling. I held him as tightly as I could. It might have hurt him, but I didn't care and I doubt he did either. I just wanted him as close as possible.

That night we did not stop touching one another for a single moment. We made love and held each other as we slept. Our legs and arms and fingers intertwined. We were together.

When we separated that next morning we did not say goodbye. I told him I would see him later. He nodded and agreed.

I had promised him.

We both knew it was a lie.

_Close._


End file.
